I say ‘crisis’. I mean ‘pain in the arse’.

I don’t want a first dance. I can’t dance, I find it embarrassing to be the centre of attention, Ashley has at least four left feet and all of the songs we both like are thoroughly inappropriate for a wedding and if we must do this then we don’t want to completely confuse people with a rendition of Jens Lekman’s Black Cab (which is actually one of ‘our’ songs). When I dismissed the idea of a dance to my future mother-in-law she looked like I’d kicked the puppy she’d have if she liked dogs. She looked positively hurt. And because I like her, I said “oh, okay then,” and I’ve regretted it ever since.

Now, Ash and I have gone through Keris’s rather fabulous Lost in Music column. But there’s a problem…

The problem is that 51 tracks later we still haven’t both clicked with any of the songs. Thanks to her suggestion about Nick Drake, I jumped at the thought of using Time Has Told Me, one of my favourite songs ever. It comes with the advantage of being a wobbler*, too.

Ashley’s response? ‘Meh’.

So I gave up – reluctantly – on Bridalwave, scanned the band‘s songlist, Google searched websites devoted to soppy tunes, looked through our iPods… and came up with nothing we could agree on.

Here’s the reject list so far:

The Beatles – In My Life: beloved by me, rejected by Ash for being ‘morbid’.

Mama Cass – Dream a Little Dream of Me: really nothing to do with either of us. We both like it but it means nothing to us.

Zero 7 – Destiny: Perfect if not for the reference to porn.

Anything by Amy Winehouse: my God, has that woman ever had a happy moment?

I thought once we had the band sorted the whole musical part of the evening would be done with. But as it turns out I’m marrying someone who’s idea of a good band is Coldplay – it really is his only bad feature – and I’m struggling to think of a slowish, appropriate, meaningful song to play. There seems little point in playing something that doesn’t at least strike a faint chord with either of us, but your suggestions would be welcome as you never know what might appeal.

I suspect that feeling hugely uncomfortable with parading ourselves around even more on a day that is all about us parading ourselves around has something to do with it, too.

*Something you can wobble vaguely to instead of actually dancing.

Alexandra Roumbas is a writer and editor living in London. She’s on holiday for two weeks from Saturday and is grateful she can leave the planning behind for a while.